Birth of the Augur now with less typos
by LiquefactiveNecrosis
Summary: The origin of your favorite blue Praetor


From high atop his tower in the besieged remains of what is now know as Lumengrid, Jin-Gitaxias, Core Augur peered across the vast battered landscape whose islands jutted out of the Quicksilver Sea. an ever expanding body of liquid metal encompassing the seat of his kingdom, built upon the broken back of a dying Vedalken empire . The Augur watched with his deep seated , predatory eyes, as the mercury tide of Phyrexian oil shifted and breathed in and out , not unlike the heartbeats of a new born infant organism - as the engine of progress continued it's duty in the shaping of his ultimate vision - the process of creating a New Phyrexia. The augur sighed , walking back to his private chambers , wherein his spinal throne set amidst a pedestal of fused compleated Vedalken nobles , their agonized faces a charming trophy of the progress engine's first early experiences with giving new Phyrexian lifeforms new purpose . the lone augur perched upon his massive throne of fused Vedalken nobility , the still 'living' emissaries trapped within , screaming wordlessly , yet their eyes in the few heads left jutting out of the sculpture in the arm of the throne would occasionally follow the augur and blink in understanding when he'd go on his many monologues in reflection to himself in the long harsh evenings of Lumengrid . One such lonely day was this day , the praetor as of late, had grown to miss the feeling of first becoming compleated. to recapture the experience that his ever changing flesh had granted him. he longed for the joyous sensations that having skin slowly being melted, twisted, and shaped into the superior Phrexian oil liquimetal , of myriads of plates and scales shifting and turning about, ripping away the battered, weak tissues and fibers, and replacing them with living mechanic parts. Yes, it was true, his old form, his old flesh, was weak . Frail. He remembered vaguely of his old life . Or was it... lives? The Augur knew little of the old times, of the times when the great father of machines himself walked upon the first tattered, shattered remains of a dying world that of all whom knew it , both uttered the name in simultaneous horror and vast wonderment - the first Phyrexia .

Before Yawgmoth, the great father of machines discovered this 'graveyard' world and breathed a new as of yet undiscovered form of life, or as other sentient races in the planes might consider it 'unlife' into his creations ,there were other, simpler life forms that dwelled within what later became Phyrexia. Which life form his memories were from, Gitaxias did not fathom. all he knew was that what little memories he had, they were mostly of the sea. A deep, vast ever expanding infinite darkness. A darkness so black and perpetual that to even dream of a concept of light would be quickly devoured by the ravenous blanket of never-ending night. the only way the Augur knew that he existed then, was by the feint glimmers he would receive, every now and again, in the form of other, wriggling, squirming, busy little aquatic pedestrians , busy workers, harvesters, soldiers, automatons of the deep . They were of simple form and function, little more than either food , tenuous ally when needed , and upon a very, rare occasion - a member of his own long forgotten species that was a suitable mate... It was a primitive function . and yet... a much ... enjoyable one . Much in the same way he served now the engine of progress, living to propagate the creation of new Phyrexian kind - so did he live then to propagate more of his forgotten , spiny, large finned and carnivorous kin. He remembered little of what he once looked like as his aquatic dwelling shell, not much more than his vague recollection of a vast array of sharp, jagged dagger-like protrusions that were his teeth, he knew this because he felt them, ever shifting, constantly growing in number and size, pushing the old ones out to make room for the new . He smiled at this . his long narrow head was not too unlike his current form , he suspected, perhaps a distant flicker of a shadow of his former life , but only in mock imitation of its form . He was a predator , but he was not the apex . He was a bottom-feeder, he lived in the blackened depths , consuming whatever smaller, weaker creatures he smelled or bumped into that could not escape the grasp of his long, powerful jaws . his eyes, were very feint, perpetually blind . He saw his world mostly through his scent. he collected a number of scents through his short lived life as a creature of the deep, the scent of prey. or fear. of blood. of death, decay. the scent of a foreign entity invading his realm. the scent of alien forces , the pheromones of a would be mate . ah, what many pleasant sites he explored with his scents . and then the day came when his senses came upon a peculiar scent. a scent of putridness , and of crude machinery. the feel of thick, viscous sludge oozing over his slick form , enshrouding him in its pitch-ink embrace, pouring over every facet of his spiked finned body . Terror. fear. powerlessness. and amongst it all , an undying curiosity of what his life had become, or what it ever was to begin with ? He thought himself destroyed . He thought that no perpetual blackness could dampen his already indecipherable habitat, but this...fluid this... glistening oil that the Phyrexians now hold as the sacred fluids of compleated life - from this primordial soup of chaos and darkness , a consciousness formed . No longer was he the jagged jawed half blind beast of the deep, scraping and gnawing at the heels of lesser, easier prey. From the melding of this bestial mind and this most holy liquimetal contagion - Jin-Gitaxias, Core Augur was 'born' .


End file.
